Violation
by scarychicks
Summary: It wasn't supposed to be like this... Wolfwood x Milly w Legato MC ReluctHetMF


DISCLAIMER: The scarychicks don't own Trigun or these characters, but we do own flashy cars and fine jewelry. This story contains disturbing subject matter.

Her back was to him. Shoulders slightly slumped, head  
modestly lowered. If he could see her eyes, they would  
probably still be swirling with the questions that he was   
powerless to answer as long as Legato had a hold of his  
larynx. Of everything.

He was fighting inside, shouting, yelling, knowing without  
a doubt where this was going. Legato refused to acknowledge  
or answer his mental screams, and that in itself was even  
worse than if the sicko had kept up a running commentary.

His arms crossed over her chest, his body pressed into her.  
He could feel her shoulderblades against his skin and  
wished they were knives that would cut him. She should be   
defending herself, fighting him off.

Perhaps Legato wasn't as good as he thought, because she  
seemed to tense even more than before. /Good girl/  
Wolfwood thought. /Fight me, get away now. Don't let it be  
like this./ Even as the words came into his head, his lips  
lowered to the elegant arc of skin connecting shoulder to  
neck, and Milly sucked in a little air. But she didn't  
fight. His mouth searched for sensitive spots, following  
the musculature of her neck. Shit, he could smell her,  
clean linen and lavender, then taste her, pure salt and skin...  
Lip, lick, then nip forming a steady pattern up, then down,  
and then up again, like a search sweep. The psychic bastard  
didn't know any other way of doing things, no doubt, but ...  
shit, there, just below the ear. He felt her lean back into him,  
turning her head slightly to give him better access. She wasn't  
asking any questions, probably afraid of what he would respond.

/No sweat, big girl/ Wolfwood thought in frustration/I  
can't say a word./ She could talk her head off if she  
wanted. That might actually be best. Then his replies  
wouldn't be natural, wouldn't be him and maybe she'd hear  
it and realize what was going on.

Legato had figured out that eye contact had to be avoided,  
after a gaze held too long had had Milly asking if he were  
alright. Hence the position Wolfwood currently found  
himself in. Another sharp intake of breath and Wolfwood  
realized with shock that his hand was travelling, sliding a  
path, down there, across soft skin, under the shirt,  
up...up more.

"Um, Mr.--I mean," she turned around abruptly then and  
Wolfwood buried his face in her neck, kissing her throat,  
nuzzling under chin, and then over, his lips seeking and  
capturing her earlobe. /Can't see her eyes. Can't try to  
tell her what's happening./ "Nicholas. I don't..." 

Milly's hands, large but surprisingly delicate, pushed  
lightly against his chest, even as he pulled her closer to  
him. "Nich-"

He silenced her with a kiss, eyes closed so he couldn't see  
what her reaction was. He wanted it to be gentle, but it  
quickly became something violent. His lips stifled hers,  
and he felt her alternately tense and slacken, as if trying  
to decide what was called for in such a situation.

All pleasure he could have derived from kissing her,  
everything he'd imagined might have been, was stolen from  
him. His mouth pressed punishingly hard against hers. His  
tongue demanded entry. He could /taste/ her, feel her, her  
ribcage rising and falling unevenly within his mockery of  
an embrace. This wasn't about love, and if Milly had any  
illusions about it before, she was figuring it out quickly  
enough. And Wolfwood hated himself for robbing her of the  
romance. Hated Legato even more.

One hand moved up her back, pulling at the hair at the nape  
of her neck. Her own hands were clenched into fists against  
him, but Milly had surrendered to the oral assault for the  
moment. He couldn't even process the whole of what he was  
doing, almost as if he were watching a film, an interactive  
roleplay that he was somehow participating in but also  
entirely removed from.

Material ripped as Wolfwood savagely yanked Milly's shirt  
down her arms, trapping her with the fabric. And although  
Legato was still assiduously making sure their eyes didn't  
meet, Wolfwood knew Milly's would have reflected the  
frantic sound of her voice.

"No, Nicholas, please...not so..."

Again he cut her off with his mouth, and this time,  
Wolfwood did get a little comment from the puppeteer.

/Oh, do you think she's going to fight this, Chapel? That  
will be SO much more interesting.../

And then Milly did start to fight it, not quite one hundred  
percent, but more than half-heartedly, it was obvious.

"Stop, please!" Her hands pushed more firmly against him  
this time, resisting and seeking a vulnerability in his shoulders,  
arms, chest. But all he felt was the skin on skin; it was as if  
she had no power at all against him, and he supposed, even  
though she was a strong girl, she didn't really.

"Look at me, Nicholas! Please let's talk for a minute."

He shook his head in the darkness, seeing just a flash of  
her eyes, wide and uncertain staring at him, inches away.

"But why..."

He spun her around again, kissing her neck, running his  
hands over her curves, never fumbling, always sure and  
steady as they moved. She gave in for a moment, throwing  
her hands up behind her, through his hair, but her fingers  
were shaking, her lips were trembling again as he kissed  
her once more and then moved to the straps of her bra, the  
remnants of her shirt now discarded on the floor. He didn't   
even know when that had happened.

Milly's voice shook as she let him undress her, almost  
physically retreating as she whispered. "I'm...I've never  
done this..."

"Shh..." The sound came from his lips and if Wolfwood had  
been in control of his muscles it would have made him jump,  
the tone low and immediate. Milly shuddered. /Oh Chapel,  
you lucky guy/ the voice smirked in his head. The rage he  
felt distracted him from what his limbs were doing, and all  
at once he was on the bed with her, pulling at his own  
belt. And Milly, Milly was helping. She'd decided,  
apparently, that since he wanted it from her, she wouldn't  
fight anymore. Her shy fingers pulled the leather from the  
loops and then rested softly against his lean stomach. He  
felt his face smiling and cursed Legato with every  
blasphemy he could summon. He wondered how natural that  
smile could possibly look.

/Prepare her you pig, don't just.../Wolfwood couldn't even  
finish the thought. Some necking wouldn't be enough to get  
Milly ready for this. Of course Milly was a virgin, and of  
course he would hurt her. Legato wanted to hurt her. Wanted  
to hurt them both. /It wasn't supposed to be like this/  
Wolfwood thought again, miserably, almost wishing the  
maniac would cut off his ability to think as well as speak.

As his pants were removed, the evidence of his desire was  
undeniable. Milly shrank back slightly, and Wolfwood felt  
like a monster. He could hear Legato's faint laughter  
inside of his head. /It's all you, Chapel. Your body  
doesn't need my help for this part./ Another soft chuckle.  
/You like it when they put up a little struggle,   
apparently./

Wolfwood could think of no response, only felt the guilt  
more acutely as he realized Legato was probably telling the  
truth. He hadn't needed any muscle or circulatory  
manipulation to get to this point. He wanted her. Had   
always wanted her. And she was naked now, and lying there,  
and waiting, still trying to hold his gaze. Her hands  
pulled his face towards her and Legato closed his eyes. She  
sighed and Wolfwood willed himself to die of a heart attack  
so he wouldn't go through with this.

He didn't so much as enter her as fall into her, no easing  
in, just one cruel and irrevocable violation. And that  
bastard released him at the exact moment of full  
penetration. Milly's hands clasped his back as she  
whimpered, then groaned in pain. She held him so tightly,  
and it felt so good -- no, wrong, it felt wrong, this  
wasn't what she'd, what they'd wanted. Before he could  
react, think, move, Legato was back, and Wolfwood wondered  
if the psychic had left at that moment for his benefit or  
due to his own distaste.

"I'm sorry..."

What was she apologizing for? God, she was so amazing, such  
a good person. He thrust harder into her then, making her  
scream and her nails drew blood. He deserved much worse than the  
small pain and the blood trickling down his back.

"I'm sorry..."

There it was again. Wolfwood moved above her, barely  
registering the act, consumed and distracted with guilt and  
horror at this corruption of the woman he loved. Instead of  
being gentle, he was raping her, moving furiously inside  
her body. She gasped and gave another cry as he went  
deeper, and Wolfwood cringed mentally and tried to look at  
her, tried to stop, but his eyes were closed and senses  
limited by the rapist's psyche holding his body hostage.

Bending down, coming closer to his climax, Wolfwood licked  
a broad swipe up Milly's neck. It was so foreign to him,  
something only Legato would think of doing, and it seemed  
almost for a moment that Milly felt the same way. Her  
entire body tensed around him as his tongue traveled up her   
throat, gripping him in a vise that was -- no, would have  
been exquisite in any other circumstance.

"Nicholas?" She pushed back, her voice ragged and obviously  
still suffering from the theft of her virginity.  
Legato (and Wolfwood, therefore), ignored her, plunging  
brutally one final time as he peaked inside her. Milly  
almost immediately relaxed, sensing the torment had come to  
an end, but her fingers remained resting on his arms,   
slowly rubbing the muscles there.

He withdrew and rolled off of her, saddened and bewildered  
and wanting to die. What was he going to say now? What  
could he possibly do/Enjoy the rest of your evening  
Chapel./ Then Legato was gone, really gone. Wolfwood turned  
to Milly, his confession in his eyes, and opened his mouth  
to speak, but the words caught in his throat.

"Milly..." His voice felt new, untried, and was heavy with  
shame.

"I'm OK, Nicholas." Her voice vibrated slightly in the  
darkness but he could hear a faltering smile in her voice.

He needed a cigarette. He stood up, headed to the  
bathroom, pulled a towel out of the tub, a spare sheet from  
the tiny closet. He returned to the bed, felt for the  
blood, and put down the towel. Then he wrapped the sheet  
around her, tucking her in, and tried to smile. But he  
didn't have it in him. He needed a cigarette.

He sat beside her. She tensed slightly against the dipping  
of the mattress, not allowing herself to roll towards him.  
He hesitated, then lifted his hand to her hair. She didn't  
move away.

"Milly, I --" His throat was thick, muffling the words.  
/I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you from Legato  
or from myself./ Because Wolfwood couldn't lie to himself,  
if it hadn't been for his damning desire for her Legato  
couldn't have-- Well, yeah, actually he /could/ have made  
Wolfwood rape her. But he wouldn't have, if it hadn't been  
for Wolfwood's interest.

Milly's breathing was evening out, and her body was slowly  
going lax. "Mama told me that men have --" she cut herself  
off with a yawn, reached up to pat his hand. "Well,  
anyway, I understand. You weren't yourself."

As Wolfwood watched, she slid fully into sleep with a final  
sigh that sounded too much like, "Sorry."

He barely stopped himself from waking her by jerking away.  
Where were his damn cigarettes?


End file.
